Harry Potter and the Last Great War
by Pres. Josiah Bartlet
Summary: Published in PARTS! Parts are pieces of a story with multiple chapters in each piece! Harry Potter is the Head of the Auror Office. When a co-worker betrays him, and Harry is sent through time, can he change one person on who so many lives rest?
1. Chapter 1

**HARRY POTTER AND THE LAST GREAT WAR**

**A post-epilogue fan fiction**

PROLOGUE

July 1, 2019

London, England

Ministry of Magic

Office of the Head Auror

It was never an ordinary day for Head Auror Harry James Potter. From his early childhood, when he defeated Voldemort with no effort on his part, his life had been thrown topsy-turvy. After seventeen years of conflict, Harry managed to kill Voldemort once and for all. However, that victory had come at a horrible cost. Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Albus Dumbledore, Sirius Black, Mad Eye Moody, Fred Weasley, and so many others, were all dead. However, today's unusual happenings were related to paperwork problems.

"MARTHA! I need that copy of Wizengamot Resolution Number 7612-A-231 on my desk before the minister gets here!" Harry bellowed out of his office door to the young witch who was serving as his assistant. She was freshly graduated from Hogwarts, and her strawberry blonde hair was spiked up in a way that always reminded Harry of Tonks' hairstyles. Stacked on one side of Harry's desk were all the normal Wizarding news outlets; The Daily Prophet at the top of the stack. As the Prophet served only the United Kingdom, Harry also had delivered the other Wizarding papers from around the world. "The Daily Broomstick" served the United States, "Der Tagliche Zauberposten" fed wizarding news to the German speaking countries, "Le Messager Quotidien du Sorcier" promised France its own slice of the Wizarding News' metaphorical pie. These papers, and many more cluttered one entire half of Harry's desk.

As Martha fast-walked in, a giant stack of papers in her arms, a memo flew through the door. Harry opened it, and read it carefully. _Frm: Cornelius Toffe, To: Harry Potter. Re: DoM_

_Mr. Potter, after our discussion on the 22__nd__ past, I felt you would wish to see our latest labor. Be at the Department's main entrance to-night at 7._

"Martha, clear my schedule at 7 and after." Harry said, lighting the memo on fire with his wand. The twenty-one years of peace had changed Harry. He wore a gray flannel suit into work, but frequently took the jacket off, and draped it over the chair back. An American witch intern often remarked that Harry looked like a young J Edgar Hoover, based off the statue she has seen in Madame Tussauds' in Washington, D.C.

Harry, at times, certainly felt that the description fit him. Since the war, the focus of the Aurors had become more and more as just a police, like Scotland Yard. He knew that, were a dark wizard to enter the Ministry today, they would be unprepared. That is why Minister Shacklebolt was coming to see him today. Harry wanted his permission to authorize a training program to keep the Aurors in a constant state of readiness.

As Harry sat there, thinking about how he could try and convince the Minister as to the validity of his need for this program, he was interrupted from his musings by a knock on the door. It was the minister, half an hour early.

"Harry, always good to see you." Kinsley roared, shaking Harry's hand in his firm grip, and then wrapping the Head Auror in a bear hug.

"Good… good to see you too, Minister Shacklebolt." Harry wheezed as he thought he heard his ribs crack. As the minister released Harry from the firm grip, Harry was able to see that Percy, now the Assistant Minister of Magic, had accompanied Kingsley. "Percy, good to see you too. How are the wife and kids?" Harry inquired of his brother-in-law, and was answered with a stoic glance of disapproval. Harry shrunk from the question. "Ah, sorry Minister, care for come brandy or a bit of Malt liqueur?" Harry inquired of Kingsley. Kingsley raised his hand in a 'No thank you' kind of way. Percy also declined.

"Now, Gentlemen, shall we get to business?" Harry asked of the two, who nodded, each interested to hear what Harry had to say.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Far, far, below them, in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries, Cornelius Toffe was bustling about his work near the infamously named "veil." The low whisperings and moans from that arch always brought fear to the squat little man who name reminded people of a favorite English sweet. As the man hustled about, shifting papers, and preparing for tomorrow's demonstration, a high, cold voice imitated from the arch, a voice with a single word on its lips,

"Potter!"

Chapter One

Reminisce and the Future…

Albus Severus Potter ran down the hallway of the top floor of the Potter's Summer Villa, near the town of Coventry, England. His elder brother, James, was hot on his heels. Albus, laughing like a madman, brandished James' wand, recently stolen from his brother's pocket. Albus, a lanky thirteen year old, appeared much as his father did at his age. The only major difference was the green and silver polo shirt Albus wore, identifying him as a member of Slytherin House.

"ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!" James howled from behind him. Albus cackled again.

"Serves you right, you prat! You shouldn't have stolen my Charms Essay!" Albus bellowed as he rounded a corner, and slammed into a door, James crashing into him a half second later. The dark mahogany wood of the door was accented by a shining brass handle.

"Oi, James, this is dad's study. He doesn't like us going in there. We should leave."

James thumped his younger brother on the back so hard, Albus' glasses went askew.

"There, there, Alby, what harm can it do?" James chuckled as he gripped the handle and turned. The room was dark, but not overwhelmingly so. Books lined the walls on floor-to-ceiling shelves. Portraits hung around the room, all asleep. Albus recognized some of them: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, and their grandparents, Lily and James Potter, occupied the space on the wall behind the desk. The others were hung from nails driven into the bookcases. A stone basin lay in a cabinet in the corner, ancient runes along its sides. James went and ran his finger over the desk.

"Dusty. He hasn't been in here in a while." James commented, reaching for the large Eagle feather quill resting on the desk. Albus came, and grabbed the quill as well.

"James, put it down! We shouldn't be here!" Albus implored his brother, who just smiled evilly, and pulled. Suddenly, as they fought over the quill, both felt a familiar tugging sensation on the back of their navals, and were whisked away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The two were slammed to the ground inside the lobby of a large building. Marble floors and intricate frescos gave the room a sense of grandeur.

"Where in Bloody hell are we?" James breathed angrily, dusting his jeans and shirt. Albus, pressing his glasses back up his nose, examined the ceiling.

"I dunno," Albus aired casually, "but wherever we are, it sure must have cost a lot of galleons to build." James, meanwhile, has wandered across the large lobby. A sign sat upon a holder, the words, in a golden script, were flashing between: "THE SECOND WIZARDING WAR" and "HARRY POTTER EXHIBITION HALL" Albus, locking gob smacked, joined his brother as they rushed down the corridor towards the Harry Potter Exhibition Hall. A guard, wearing the robes of the Auror Law Enforcement Office (ALE), stood outside the door. Casting a look at Albus, he chuckled, muttering something about a good costume, and let them in. Immediately upon entering, both were stunned. Every single inch of this massive, massive room was covered in Harry Potter artifacts, memorabilia, and a gift shop.

"Bloody hell." James intoned under his breath.

"Dad never did tell us all about the wars…" Albus let the though hang. James and Albus exchanged furtive glances, and began to wander the museum.

Chapter Two

Join the Family Business…

"Well, Kingsley, Percy, it was good to see you two again, and I am glad you are on board with our program." Harry smiled at Kingsley and his brother-in-law. As the pair nodded and left, Harry beckoned Martha into his office.

"Martha, I think it is high time you take a vacation. You've been out of school for over a month, you have never once owled in sick, nor have you ever taken a lunch break. That is why I am sending you on a paid vacation, no arguments." Harry added as she opened her mouth to protest. "A portkey will be set up to take you to the Isle of Wright for a week. End of discussion." Harry stated forcefully. As Martha meekly walked out, Harry stood, putting on the grey suit coat, and a traveling cloak overtop of that. Tapping the lights with his wand, they dimmed, the shades falling over the enchanted windows, and papers neatly organized themselves. Walking out, he was wished a good evening from the Minister's staff, through their open doors. Reaching the golden lifts, he descended one floor, and waited while the voice announced: _Level 2, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Including the Auror Offices, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, Wizengamot Administrative Services, Improper Use of Magic Office, and the __Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive __Spells__ and Protective Objects_. but the long arm of Ronald Weasley stuck in the lift, blocking the doors from closing. Ron, wearing official looking robes, Harry surmised, was rushing to get home before Hermione, as she always hated being home first, mobbed by both children, a pet rat, Crookshanks II, Crookshanks's children, and the pet owls, which always mobbed the first adult into the house.

"Rushing to get home again, are we?" Harry sniggered at Ron, as the cool female voice called out that the lift was halting at _Level Three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes_, and rattled off the list of offices on that level. Ron nodded breathlessly as a short, mousy brown haired man joined them in the lift.

"Hello, Dennis." Harry stated, smiling down at Dennis Creevey, the short man smiling back. Dennis had not gotten much bigger since the Battle of Hogwarts, and was jokingly called, behind his back, of course, "The Ministry's Little Dwarfy." The lift rattled down to the Atrium, where all but Harry exited. Harry stood, waiting, as the life descended again. _Level Nine, Department of Mysteries_, the cool Female voice called out. Harry exited the lifts, and saw the short, squat Cornelius Toffe standing by the polished black door that had once plagued Harry's dreams.

"Harry! Glad to see you!" Cornelius called. Harry noted that the wizard looked nervous. Harry followed the sweating wizard through the horribly familiar mazes of halls and revolving rooms. Passing through a door, Harry saw the Death Chamber in the distance, its veil drifting in that mysterious wind. A golden plaque, he knew, rested on the side of the arch, bearing the inscription "Here fell Sirius Black, Hero of the Wizarding Wars." Ducking into an anteroom, Harry was shown a large, ornate time turner, bearing the inscription "Este Dispositivo fará o mestre wearer do tempo."

"Portuguese? Cornelius, Portuguese?" Harry asked, reading the inscription again. The short wizard grinned sheepishly, as Harry placed it around his neck, he felt the object grow hot immediately. Unseen by Harry, Cornelius was muttering a spell behind his back, activating the object. Suddenly, it glowed a fearsome bluish color, and Harry vanished.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

James and Albus Potter walked back through the front door of the Potter's Summer Home, after catching the Knight Bus to their neighborhood.

"Hi, mum!" Albus called out as Ginny appeared from the kitchen. Ginny, looking nervous, gripped her sons tightly.

"Boys! Where have you been? The clock's been showing you as traveling all day!" Ginny exclaimed. Albus, casting a furtive glance over his mother's shoulder, saw that his, James, Lily, and his mums hands all rested on Home. His fathers, however, rested on the space titled "Mortal Peril." Albus felt the bottom drop off his stomach.

"Mum," Albus began crying, "why is dad in Mortal Peril?"

Chapter Three

Songe d'Automne

Harry Potter landed painfully on his left arm and leg. Groaning, and muttering something about being too old for this, he stood, and brushed off his robes. He stood in front of the winged boars that flanked the gates of Hogwarts Castle. Pushing the gate open, he began to walk up the long drive to the castle, walking past the caretaker's hut and the edge of the black lake. Noting that Dumbledore's Tomb did not lay next to the water, his heart rose in his chest. _Dumbledore is alive in this time _Harry thought elatedly. Harry's next impulse was to wonder when this time was. Perhaps back when Harry was a student, or earlier…

Pushing on the great wooden doors into the Entrance Hall, they swung inwards, and Harry walked across the cobblestone floor, and into the Great Hall. Judging from the hat on a stool, and the babble of the students, it was obviously the start of term feast. Casting a familiar look around the Great Hall for familiar faces, Harry's heart skipped a beat. There, sitting at the Slytherin Table, a silver Slytherin pin glimmering on his chest, was a pale boy, with black hair slicked over into a short comb-over. His handsome features were shone upon by the floating candles. _Tom Riddle? At Hogwarts? _Harry's mind was racing. So, this bust be during the time of the Muggle Second World War. Looking up at the staff table, Harry recognized Armando Dippet sitting in the gilded Headmasters throne. Looking to the left, Harry saw the man he sought, auburn hair and all. Albus Dumbledore, Dippet's Deputy Headmaster, sat at his right, as the diminutive Fillius Flitwick carted the sorting hat away. Ducking low, Harry sprinted up the center aisle of the hall. Reaching the staff table, he withdrew his badge.

"Excuse me, Headmaster Dippet, I am with the Auror office, I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore at once. This is very urgent." Harry muttered, flashing the badge to the old headmaster. Dippet nodded.

"Use my office," the old headmaster replied, "the password is Brains." Harry nodded, and he felt the figure of Dumbledore hurrying along behind.

"Well, well, you look like none of the Aurors I have met before, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said as they reached Dippet's office. Harry, frozen in shock at Dumbledore's knowledge of his name, then remembered that it was on his badge. Leave it to Dumbledore to spot: "Harry James Potter; Head, Auror Office" on the Badge while it was out for only a fraction of a second.

"How so, Professor?" Harry asked, trying to play it cool.

"For one, you are far too short and scrawny, excuse that sir, and for another, you are very good at Muggle dressing. Are you a Muggle born? If so, those are very unusual in the Auror Office, or even in the entire ministry." Dumbledore's eyes carried the familiar twinkle already. "And, because your Badge bore the issued date: July 31, 2007." Harry cursed Dumbledore's quick eye inside his head, forgetting that Dumbledore was considered _the_ master of Legilimency. A chuckle from the wizard reminded Harry of that, and he began blushing for forgetting his place.

"So, Harry, let's start with how you came to 1941?" Dumbledore smiled, sitting on the edge of the desk. Quickly, Harry recounted his mishap with Cornelius, and stood there, feeling like a student implicated in a crime.

"Hm… well, Harry everything has a purpose. This is a stoke of luck, as our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Galatia Merrythought, requested a leave due to the ill health of her parents, older brother, and her grandson. I do believe you will be a suitable substitute. A warning, though, there are three students who are very, very adept at Defense Against the Dark Arts. Two are Gryffindor, one is Slytherin."

"I can guess one," Harry announced, "Tom Riddle." Dumbledore looked impressed. "The others, I have no idea."

"They are Minerva McGonagall, and Alastor Moody." Harry felt a pang of heartache when he heard Moody's name.

"Funny, I can't picture McGonagall as a teenager." Harry commented. Dumbledore chuckled.

"You'll have plenty of opportunity to see her. She is your Teachers Assistant." Harry felt his stomach drop. McGonagall as a backseat driver, in essence. He wondered if she was uptight in school as she was as the professor.

"But sir, isn't she a bit young to be a teachers assistant?" Harry asked, remembering that McGonagall would be 15 in 1941, a year older than Voldemort. Dumbledore smiled his mysterious smile, and told Harry to go to the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor's office, to sleep and prepare for classes the next day.

"How the hell did I get caught up in this?" Harry muttered as Professor Merrythought showed him in, then rushed out the door with her trunk.

Chapter Four

The Twilight's Shard

Awakening early, Harry dragged his wand over the gray suit, and withdrew a small, moleskin purse, similar to Hagrid's old present. This one had an undetectable expansion charm upon it. Aiming his want into the depths, out sprung the required DADA texts for the lessons that day. Looking at the schedule he had for the classes, he groaned. Slytherin and Gryffindor, double period, right off the bat. What was worse, they were Fourth years, meaning Riddle. Well, his years of work with the Aurors had made him a master at Occlumency and Legilimency. If Riddle tried anything, Harry was ready. Packing the books into a leather briefcase extracted from the moleskin purse, he descended to the Great Hall for breakfast.

The strange man in Muggle clothes attracted many stares. Harry, sitting at the staff table, saw the hundreds of eyes flicking from Dippet, to him, to the food, in an unending cycle. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Dippet stood.

"We have a temporary addition to our staff. Professor Merrythought had to leave us temporarily, to care for her family during a very serious bout of Dragon Pox, so, instead, we have Assistant Head of the Auror Department, Mr. Harry James, here as a substitute. Your class schedules will be distributed by your heads of houses after you have finished eating."

Harry noticed that he got much more reverent stares for the rest of breakfast. He was thankful to Dumbledore for not telling Dippet his real name, or his actual position, but it was still uncomfortably close. Standing with less than five minutes left of breakfast, Harry strode from the room, moving up to his classroom, and positioning himself in an alcove hidden by a tapestry outside the room. He wanted to see Riddle's arrival. A few minutes later, there he was. Flanked by numerous teenage boys, Riddle looked strangely out of place amongst the people, Harry knew, would become the first Death Eaters.

"Barmy Mudblood, he looks." Wheezed one of Riddle's compatriots, who Harry recognized as Abraxus Malfoy, Draco's grandfather. "Waltzing around gussied up like a muggle." Abraxus spat as he said the word. Riddle laughed, and Harry was stunned. It was not the high, cold laugh he had expected. It was warm, pleasant, even, if Harry had not known better, comforting.

"Calm, Abraxus, calm." Riddle said forcibly. "He's a teacher. They're all as stupid as the others. I have won them all over, and I can do it again." The baritone voice was such a contrast to Harry's memories of this man, he was nearly in a state. Then, Riddle and his friends filed into the room, last of them all. Harry emerged from the alcove, and strode silently into the room. Standing in the back, next to the door, he adopted his best imitation of Mad-eye Moody, and bellowed.

"SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!" Harry roared. The students, so taken aback, dove into their seats in fright. Riddle looked unnerved, but still calm. Walking to the front of the room, he summoned the attendance sheet. Rattling down the list, he read the name,

"Moody, Alastor." Harry called out. A lanky boy towards the front nodded to Harry, who was taken aback. Moody, without the eye, looked 100% normal at this age. Of course, Harry had never seen him without all the scars. Continuing, he got to "Riddle, Tom." when he felt the familiar tugging sensation on the edge of his mind. Weak, but there.

"Mr. Riddle, you will please not try Legilimency on an Assistant Head of the Auror Office. It may wind you up in Azkaban." Harry said, looking Tom right in the eyes. He could see the hatred and loathing hidden behind the mask of the self-assured 14 year old boy.

"Who says it's me, Professor?" Riddle asked candidly.

"Don't play dumb with me, Tom. There is one thing, and one thing only that tells me it was you." Harry walked into the middle of the room, so he was standing next to Riddle. Leaning in on his ear, he looked like he was about to whisper. Instead, the next sound came in a furious bellow.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Harry roared, and half the class fell off their chairs in fear. Riddle clutched at his ear, and fell to the floor. Moody laughed forcefully as Grotenous Goyle fell on top of Riddle, who was still massaging his ear. After the class had recovered itself, Harry began to lecture on how even the simplest spells can prove invaluable in a duel.

"Mr. Riddle. Prove that talent of yours the teachers all boast about." Harry called. "Here, now, duel." Harry and Riddle had their wands out in a second. Riddle shot a stinging hex Harry's direction, who lazily dodged it. A blue light flew from Harry's wand, and Riddle was forced to conjure a shield to defend himself. Five minutes later, Riddle collapsed backwards onto the floor.

"Oh, Mr. Riddle, one last thing." Harry called as Abraxus and several of Riddle's friends carried him out the door. "I'm a half blood."

Chapter Five

The Mournful Day

James and Albus Potter sat in silent shock. After spotting the clock, time seemed to have gone in a whir for the brothers. Kingsley has appeared, saying that their father was missing and presumed dead. Lily had cried hardest. Albus, the more mature on several levels, had spent days consoling both his mother and his younger sister. Now, on the day of his father's memorial service, he found himself at a loss for words. Looking to his right, he saw that James was crying silently. Wrapping an arm around his brother, he led him out the front door of the Potter family's cottage in Godric's Hollow, and helped him to the little church in the village square. The statue of Harry Potter and his parents was draped in black. As the two brothers entered the church, they saw many familiar faces: Minerva McGonagall, Draco Malfoy (and his family), Neville and Hanna Longbottom, Luna and Rolf Scamander, their grandparents, as well as all their cousins, aunts, and uncles, and numerous Ministry and Wizengamot figures. The brothers sat next to their mother and Lily as the same short, balding wizard, who Albus had heard presided over Dumbledore's funeral, ascended to the front of the church. Looking left, Albus saw three portraits propped on a pew next to Hagrid, the portraits bore the weeping figures of Dumbledore, Snape, and Lily and James Potter, Harry's parents.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are here to commemorate the life of Harry Potter. Naturally, his life does not need to be retold here, but we all know why this man was held in such esteem. Descended from Godric Gryffindor and Ignotus Peverell, Harry Potter was a man of many achievements, including the youngest person to ever become an auror, and the youngest ever member of the Wizengamot." Sobs echoed around the church. Albus, glancing around, saw that everyone in the room was crying, even Draco. Suddenly, Albus felt a pain shoot through his forehead. Lifting his hand, he expected to find his forehead blank, but was surprised when it actually was. Al quietly excused himself, muttering about composing himself, and ducked into the church's small bathroom. Immediately, his head shot with pain, and he was not inside the church anymore. He walked through the halls of Hogwarts, with a bunch of menacing looking Slytherins, all older than him. One of them looked remarkably like Scorpius, and Albus almost exclaimed his name, but his logic caught up with him, Scorpius was a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin. One of the Slytherins spoke quietly.

"My liege, what will we do with that new teacher?" A tall, intimidating Slytherin seventh year asked. Albus' voice came out cold and impassive.

"If he will not join us, I say it is time he sees what disappointing Lord Voldemort grants those blood traitors." Albus' voice spoke, but it wasn't Albus' voice. His throat clenching, he knew this was Tom Riddle. How he was seeing into Voldemort's mind, he could not guess, but it was happening. With great force, Albus pulled himself out of that evil mind, and reentered the church proper.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Cornelius Toffe was conspicuously absent from Harry's memorial service. Polishing the plaque on the "veil," Toffe was speaking.

"He is back where you needed him, my lord. He is yours for the taking." Toffe babbled. A high, cold laugh emanated from the recesses of the veil, with an accompanying voice:

"Good, good Cornelius. Lord Voldemort is pleased with your efforts."

Chapter Six

_Confutatis maledictis_

Tom Riddle was in a slight state of shock. He never expected a teacher to be able to say 'no' to him. Dumbledore, the old fool, had always been the exception. Now with this new "Auror" as a teacher, Riddle's influence at Hogwarts was slightly depleted. Pacing angrily, Riddle cast an imposing figure. His face was bent low, his chin resting on his chest. His dark hair fell over his eyes, yet his feet followed the familiar circuit with maddening familiarity. Thoughts raced madly through his head. The black ring glinting on his finger identified him as a member of Slytherin house, but there was no need to remind people. Finally, growing tired of the oval circuit, Riddle sat forcefully in an arm chair. With a snap of Riddle's fingers, a skinny, old, and bald house elf appeared, holding a sliver tray towards Riddle. Taking the goblet of wine, and sipping, Riddle slid the worn, black leather book off the tray as well. Putting them both on the table beside him, he noticed that the elf was looking at him.

"Filthy creature, how dare you look at your master?" Riddle spat at the creature, and slapped it hard across the face. A flaring red mark lay upon the house elf's visage as it disapperated back to the kitchens. Taking another sip of the wine, he waved his wand, and the book rose into the air, the pages ruffling to the number he wanted. With a thud, _Magik Moste Eville _fell onto the lap of Tom Marvolo Riddle, open to a page headed **HORCRUXES**.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry sat behind his desk in the office of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Grading the essays from that day, a familiar sensation raced through his body. His stomach lurching in fear, Harry realized that his scar was hurting for the first time in over 20 years. The pain was blinding. Shutting his eyes, he immersed himself into that twisted, evil mind once again.

_He was walking along the corridors of Hogwarts, a book clamped tightly under his arm. The hands clasped behind his back fingered his wand. Ascending the steps to the Owlery, Harry saw that he was alone, and released the book from the vice of his arm. The spine of the book faced towards him, and Harry saw a title that made his stomach somersault. _Magik Moste Eville _was placed on the table in the Owlery, as Harry clicked his tongue, and a great Eagle-owl landed. Tying the book to the owl with a length of string, Harry muttered to the owl a series of instructions._

_"Once you have found him, keep at him until he opens the book to the page I have marked. Tell him I am curious as to how such an end could be achieved. Remind him that Tom Riddle is his most faithful supporter in England."_

_Harry saw the owl nod dutifully, and fly off. _

Harry emerged from that horrible mind for the first time ever feeling sick. He knew what Riddle wanted with that book, but without a long explanation to Dumbledore and Dippet, Harry could not take Riddle for questioning of his own.


	2. Part II

Chapter Seven

Hunting a Riddle

Harry Potter paced the length and width of the office which came with his quarters as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He knew Tom Riddle was asking for help making Horcruxes, but from who? Then, with the suddenness of being hit by a freight train, Harry knew who Voldemort had written to. He knew whose help Riddle sought out, and Riddle could not possibly know what that man could do to him. He had to get to Dumbledore fast, and find out everything the Deputy Headmaster could spare about Gellert Grindelwald.

Racing down the corridors of Hogwarts, Harry charged into Dumbledore's study while the wizened Transfiguration instructor was stroking a baby Phoenix.

"Glad to see you still have Fawkes." Harry panted, flopping down into the red chair before Dumbledore's desk. "Professor Dumbledore, we have a problem."

"A student has written to Gellert Grindelwald?" Dumbledore asked, as if inquiring about the weather. Harry cursed himself for not being more of a master occlumens.

"Yes sir, Tom Riddle." Harry sat up straighter, and began to tell Dumbledore the whole horrible story of Lord Voldemort after he left Hogwarts. By the time he finished, Dumbledore's face was a deathly pale.

"He… he made _seven _Horcruxes?" The soon-to-be-Headmaster's voice shook in shock. Harry nodded grimly. "I've heard of one or two, but seven? No soul can survive that much ripping apart. No normal, human soul, at any rate." Now it was Dumbledore's turn to pace.

"I think, sir, he is helping Grindelwald undermine Professor Dippet's hold on the school." Harry sighed wearily, his mind shouting at him, _YOU ARE TOO OLD FOR THIS!_

"I believe so, too. However, we can do nothing without a Ministry Warrant."

"But you're Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot! Surely you could get a warrant!" Harry spoke with such a fervent pitch it frightened him a bit.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The gates of Hogwarts castle were opened softly. The pale light of the full moon fell upon the figure walking fast towards the castle. His hood was raised. He passed the White Marble tomb on the lake shore, and entered the Castle. Taking the marble stairs three at a time, he reached the lowermost Dungeon in minutes. With a wave of his wand, the door to the "RESTRICTED ITEMS" store room Filch kept swung open. There was what he sought, though it was badly damaged. A singe red eye stared out of the slashed canvas, and one long white hand spun a wand between its fingers. The horrible slashed and scared portrait of Lord Voldemort smiled a cruel smile at the approach of the man.

"Cornelius. So glad of you to come, as you said you would." Cornelius Toffe's hood fell back, and his face glistened red.

"Milord, the time is almost complete. Soon, all the materials shall be ready, and you shall live again." Cornelius bowed his head. Lord Voldemort's portrait began laughing his high, cold, cruel laugh.

Chapter Eight

The Legacy of the Four Founders

Harry left his exhaustive meeting with Dumbledore finding out that in the 1940's, the Ministry was a dictatorial power. The Minister of Magic was prone to pureblood hysteria, and ruled with an iron fist. Harry's spirits were slumping. As he walked down a corridor on the ground floor that wasn't there in Harry's time, a voice called to him from a portrait.

"I say, good sir! I happened to overhear your conversation with Professor Dumbledore." The man in the portrait wore black robes, but his hair was wild and fiery orange, much like the Weasley's hair would eventually be. His hair fell to his shoulders, and a thick, powerful goatee covered his chin. A plaque, grimy with age, sat on the bottom of his picture frame. GODRIC GRYFFINDOR, FOUNDER OF THE HOUSE OF GRYFFINDOR, FIRST SETTLER OF GORDIC'S HOLLOW, KNIGHTED BY KING EDGAR THE PEACEFUL BORN JANUARY 11, 901 DIED ???.

The portrait of Godric Gryffindor beamed at him, the familiar sword clasped at his waist. One thing puzzled Harry.

"Why does your portrait not list a date of death?" Harry thought portraits were only activated after their subject's deaths. Gryffindor laughed, a booming that sounded like cannons at a distance.

"Because, my dear boy, I am not dead!" Harry looked gobsmacked. Godric Gryffindor was still alive? How? "You know the giant squid, good lad?" Harry nodded, still shocked. "That's me, in my Animagus form!" Gryffindor chortled again. "I thought that was common knowledge." Harry's mind was racing. _If Godric Gryffindor is the giant squid, that means he was alive when I went to school, and he's still alive with Albus and James in school! _An idea crossed Harry's mind.

"Mr, er, sorry, SIR Gryffindor," Harry recalled the plaque, "Would it do too much harm to ask you a favor?"

"Of course not, my boy. If it's physical services you want, you can catch me out wandering the grounds every night after 11." The portraiture chuckled again. A haughty, demeaning sounding voice echoed from down the passage.

"Godric, for the love of Merlin, let the boy breathe. He's a teacher at this school, so he's not one of your Mudblood hoity-toities." Salazar Slytherin's portrait sighed from down the hall. Two exhasperated women's sighs told him that Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw were here too. As the portraits of Gryffindor and Slytherin began bickering, and the portraits of the two Female founders smiled weakly at him, and began trying to halt the argument, Harry backed away.

Chapter Nine

Meeting with a Founder

The clock on his mantel chimed Eleven. Harry, fully dressed, slid a cloak onto his shoulders. He began the long walk down, towards the lake. As promised, there, walking pensively around the lake, was the figure of a man, now stooped by age, but his hair the same fiery orange as all the years ago.

"Sir Gryffindor?" Harry inquired. The man spun so fast, he seemed to have been expecting him. A black wand was pressed into Harry's throat.

"Who are you?" The familiar voice from the portrait asked.

"I am Harry James Potter, Head of the Auror Office at the Ministry of Magic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at this school. I spoke with your portrait this morning." Harry said, his voice perfectly cool, not reflecting the fear he felt. Gryffindor lowered his wand slightly, but kept it out.

"Alright, I swore a debt of service to this school, what is it you want." Gryffindor's voice echoed of impatience. Harry commenced to inform him of exactly his request.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first of September had come and gone. Albus and James had returned to Hogwarts, Lily, now 10, spent all her time with their mother. Albus sat by the fire in the common room, his glasses asked, snoring loudly. Somewhere, a watch beeped that it was 11 at night. He heard the Fat Lady speak outside.

"Password?"

"Είμαι οι τελευταίοι των ιδρυτών τέσσερα. Διατάζω τη εσένα για να ανοίξω!" The deep voice spoke. It was not a tongue Albus recognized as he sat upright. His mind was whirring. Who in Hogwarts would try and gain access to Gryffindor tower at 11 at night, and without the password.

"You may pass." The Fat Lady spoke. The portrait hole swung open, and Albus had his wand out. A man stooped with age, and gleaming orange hair looked into his face.

"Put it away, boy. You don't know who you have that thing pointed at."


End file.
